


Among death, is there peace?

by Ravenia



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship/Love, General, Male-Female Friendship, War talk, hint of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 21:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenia/pseuds/Ravenia
Summary: In which Sylvain contemplates about the war and Byleth finds him deep in thought.





	Among death, is there peace?

**\---**

_The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war._

**Douglas MacArthur**

**\---**

Death_._

So much death.

It was funny how simple things used to be back then. When all of them were just enjoying their time at the Academy. Ingrid berating him and cleaning up his messes, him pestering Felix to go out and loosen up, teasing Annette…

And then Edelgard had happened. Turned out to be the Flame Emperor and plunged Fodlan into war.

For five years.

Five years of war.

Of chaos and blood and death. Of destruction and carnage.

The countless screams of villagers who died due to the Imperial Army, the cries and sobs of those who had lost their loved ones, the heart-wrenching sounds from those who had their most precious ripped away from them…forever. Never to come back, never to return.

The sound of his axe sinking into flesh and slicing off the bone.

The sound of his enemy’s last, defiant cry.

His enemy’s final words.

Light brown eyes stared listlessly at the never-ending sea of navy blue and raven black above, streaked with twinkling white jewels, red hair falling back as the light illuminated refined cheekbones and a rather sardonic expression set upon handsome features instead of an easygoing one.

Pain.

Since when had he clenched his fists? Had his fingers dig into his palms?

“Sylvain?”

He turned.

Ah, it was her.

Familiar light green tresses framing sapphire blue eyes and soft cheekbones that spilled down slender shoulders. She was dressed in, surprisingly enough, a loose, oversized shirt that made her look smaller than she already was and a pair of shorts that accentuated long, toned legs. Full, petal lips that were curled into a look of…concern? Was she...concerned about him?

On another note, she honestly looked rather adorable.

“Oh, Professor. What’re you doing here?” The sardonic expression vanished, easily being replaced with a charming smile. Faking was what he was good at, after all. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I’m not your professor anymore,” she huffed, poking him in the shoulder as she walked to stand beside him. “Really, Sylvain.”

An exaggerated pout. “Aw, but - ”

“_Anyway_, what are you doing here?”

“I asked you first,” he pointed out childishly, yelping as he received a thwack on the arm. “Ouch, Professor. Fine, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, warring internally with himself. Some part of him still resented her, envied her for being free from the life and expectations he had since his childhood. But he knew it was stupid. She never chose to be ignorant of her Crest, never chose to have a Crest in the first place. Somewhat like him, to be honest. Both of them never had the freedom to pick if they wanted a Crest of not. It was just that she’d had the luck to have a parent like Jeralt, a mercenary that couldn’t care less about Crests. Family who actually _cared_ about her instead of what honour or prestige she could bring.

And, well, unlike _some_ people, she actually cared about him and saw him for who he was. And just…accepted him, flaws and all. Even if he _had_ threatened to kill her before.

But things had changed. Fighting on the front-lines had changed him. _War_ had changed him.

The words came out before he could stop it.

“The war.”

It was so soft that he almost missed it - the sharp, inhalation of breath.

“…What about it?”

“Just…thinking. I mean five years ago, we were just having fun at the Academy. Living our lives. But now?” The red-haired male snorted. “It’s like everyone has issues. And then you have the Imperial forces trying to conquer everywhere – all of us even if it means all of us have to die in the process. Not to mention, by the way, that said Emperor that started this war was one of our _classmates_.”

“One moment, we were having fun. The next, we’re fighting for our lives.” His expression twisted, a sardonic tone in his voice. “Funny, isn’t it, Professor?”

Her reply surprised him.

“You’re not wrong,” she said with a small shrug. A pause. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I hadn’t fallen asleep, if I could have stopped this from happening.”

Sylvain blinked, staring at his former professor. For once, he was at a loss of words. It took him a couple of seconds before he regained control of his vocal cords.

Did she blame herself?

“War had already been declared before you went missing though, Professor,” he couldn’t resist pointing out. Why was she blaming herself? And…why was he reassuring her?

“True. But it’s just, you never know, you know?” She stared at the sky. “That’s no excuse though. It doesn’t change that I missed out on five years of all of your lives. Everyone. You. I wasn’t there for all of you.”

What could he say to that?

“Well, at least you’re here now, right?” Sylvain attempted, flashing a smile as he scrambled to find some words to say. “I don’t think anyone of us intend on letting you live your life peacefully, Professor.”

The heaviness in her features vanished, amusement replacing it as she turned to look at him. “Does that include you too, Sylvain?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A laugh.

Inwardly, Sylvain made a mental note to find more ways to make her laugh.

“Of course you don’t.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m going back to sleep. Goodnight, Sylvain.” Pausing in her tracks, she cast him a reproachful look. “And stop calling me ‘Professor’.”

“Aw, are you sure - ” Sylvain put up his hands to placate her at the sight of her glare. “I get it, I get it. Goodnight, Byleth.”

A small pause.

“By the way, nice shirt,” he couldn’t resist a parting shot, a small sense of satisfaction washing over him at seeing the tips of her ears flushed red.

“…Shut up, Sylvain.”


End file.
